Until We Move On
by Makkoska
Summary: A century spent alone at the bottom of the ocean is a long time, even for a creature like Dio. It's a lucky thing that Jonathan keeps him company. A JonaDio trying-to-get-it-right story.


**Summary** : A century spent alone at the bottom of the ocean is a long time, even for a creature like Dio. It's a lucky thing that Jonathan keeps him company.

 **A/N:** This is not a new story – I've written it in August, but haven't come across to post it to yet. (though you might have seen it if you're a regular at AO3)

 **A/N#2:** This is JonaDio, canon-compliant slash. No particular warnings apply – maybe for in-between-life-and-death-sex?

 ***-*Until We Move On*-***

Dio has very little time before the ship explodes. He could say he has only a few heartbeats to regain the control over his own fate, if he'd have a heart still.

He has to hurry as he wastes precious seconds in the embrace of Jonathan's dead body, even when the man can't possibly have any powers left to keep him immobile. Still, those seconds, maybe even minutes run by before he manages to shake that mysterious spell off.

It's only the first really large explosion shaking the ship that brings him back to his senses and makes him realize what he is doing - playing the game by Jojo's rules and letting himself be pulled into death with him.

But this, of course, won't do. He, Dio, won't die like this. No, he won't die at all, but he'll carry out his plan and live using Jonathan's body, forever.

He drags themselves into the coffin with difficulty. Jojo's dead weight is pulling him back. He has always been heavy, built like a bear, but that shouldn't cause Dio any problems, not even now, when he's nothing but a living head. His vampiric powers are supposed to make him superior - no, he _knows_ he is superior, he always has been compared to the rest, the dull mob he was forced to live his life amongst. And ever since he casted his humanity away and became _more,_ the next step in evolution, there is nobody to compare to him.

Maybe with the exception of Jonathan. That's the reason he's here on the ship, to claim the body of the man with whom their destinies intertwined, who he once despised, but by now has become the sole person he ever admired.

To claim his body as his own was the perfect endgame for Jojo's life and the best next step in Dio's march for invincibility. He knew the plan had its risks, but choosing Jojo as the host for his eternal life was not simply revenge on his part, it was showing his admiration.

Damn him for thwarting his plans so.

His tentacles entwined around Jonathan's limp legs and arms, he finally manages to fit him in the coffin. The ship is falling apart around them, with a cacophony of overheated metal tearing to pieces, series of explosions and roaring flames, the noise itself deafening and unbearable. Any moment now and the whole ship will be blown into a milliard of tiny, unrecognisable pieces of rubbish.

Using his hair and his threads, the shuts the lid closed and locks the bolts. Darkness envelops them.

There's a moment of relative calmness.

"We are safe, Jojo," he breaths. The next instant the final explosion shakes the boat.

Dio feels the coffin rising up and flying through air. Debris collide with their shelter, they lurch as they spin around. Jonathan's body fills the most of the box, so they don't shake too much inside at least. Dio's head is pillowed between his chest and the lush, thick carpet of the lid. His appendages are still entwined around the corpse of his adopted brother, so he can keep himself steady.

He can feel when they splash into the surface of the ocean. Then, as they start to sink towards the bottom, silence surrounds them.

Dio untwines himself from around Jojo and sets to work.

 ***/*/***

It takes an unexpectedly long time to cut Jonathan's head from his body. There's very limited space inside the coffin and without hands Dio can only use his powers, but he still expected a quicker progress. Little by little can he cut the dead flesh of the Joestar. Their fight took out a lot from him and he has to stop to gather his strength too many times.

They have already come to a rest at the bottom of the ocean and he's still only halfway through. The energy he can shoot from his eyes illuminates the confines of the box. Jonathan looks peaceful still. He's no longer bleeding, but the front of his once-white shirt is soaked and stiffened with burgundy red stains.

When Dio takes a break, it's completely dark. He's now a creature of the night, but with no source of light at all, he can't see either. The weakest blink of a star would do, but the coffin was constructed in a way to keep everything out. Not even water is seeping in.

Maybe they have sunk too deep underwater and it would be completely dark anyway, Dio can't tell.

He's seized by the fear that if he delays too long Jojo's body - _his new body_ \- will start to decay so he sets to work again. Honestly, he could do better with a knife, if he'd still have fingers to hold it with.

Finally he separated vertebra, muscles, skin, and gently moves Jojo's head to take its place.

His tentacles dig into the muscles under the stump, fixing his head in place on his new body. There's a tingling, unpleasant sensation starting from his nape, running down on his neck, pooling where his spinal column is cut. Then it suddenly blossoms out, explodes over his whole being as the marrows connect. It's a struggle, his power is fighting Jojo's body, which is trying to resist him.

But he won't let him win. No, after all that happened, after Jojo stroke him almost-dead three times, he will conquer over him finally.

He pushes with all his might, willing the body to obey him, to accept him. He. Won't. Back. Down. He's the better and he will prove it.

The pain becomes something more, an unbearable agony. He hears the ends of their spines grinding against each other and then they connect, start to merge into one. Dio screams out, the voice echoing inside his self-chosen prison, Jonathan's body - no, _his body –_ is shaking, fingers twitching uncontrollably, teeth clattering so hard he bites his tongue. He tries to order it to obey him, tries to lift his hands, but it's beyond his control. His vision becomes red as the flames that consumed the Joestar manor, then white as if he was staring right into the sun he will never see again.

Then he goes limp and silent as he blacks out.

 ***/*/***

He opens his eyes and looks around his room in confusion. He doesn't remember lying down. Did he fall asleep in the middle of the day?

He sits up. Everything is how he remembers it to be - and even though that's how it should be, for some inexplicable reason he finds it odd.

He can clearly recall the first time he looked around here. How he kept his expression carefully neutral in case anyone - Lord Joestar or his idiot son - was checking what he thought of it. So he acted as if the simple, but comfortable bed with its clean covers and soft pillows were no big deal. As if he had clothes to fill the large wardrobe with, books to put on the empty shelf that only hold a Bible at the moment of his arrival.

He could have felt thankful for such a sudden improvement in his living conditions. Maybe others would have been honestly touched by the Joestars' generosity.

Dio felt only spite. This was so natural for these people. The huge mansion, the clean rooms with the simple yet expensive furniture, the servants… They could have afforded to take in twenty street urchins without any difficulties.

He hated them. Jojo, his father, his own father for keeping that letter in secret for so long, sentencing him to such an unbearable life for twelve years, while this was, secretly, within his reach all the time.

But he liked _his_ room from the first moment he stepped through its threshold.

He didn't change too much things in it, has always been careful not to make it too personal, so it hasn't started to feel like home too much. But he has a couple of widgets in the drawers, attires and accessories for box and rugby in the chest under the window. He's filled the wardrobe with his new clothes, the shelf above the desk with books that nobody seemed to mind him taking from the library.

One is lying open on the tabletop. He stands to check what it is - the _Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde,_ he recognises after reading a few lines.

He liked that book, but it's curious what it is doing on the desk. He read it two times already. Was somebody in his room? In his mind's eye, he sees Jojo rummaging through his stuff, like Dio did it a couple of times with his. But Jonathan wouldn't leave such a book here as an innuendo, he's not smart enough for it. He closes it and sees he was wrong, it's a different novel after all. _Oliver Twist._

What it is doing here? He hated it, and surely never took it from the library to keep on his own shelf.

Feeling confused he walks to the open window. The late morning sun is shining brightly, warmly, undisturbed by the drawn-back draperies. He closes his eyes and enjoys the way the rays caress his face. It seems like a thousand years since he last enjoyed sunshine.

His fingers close around the curtain as he realizes this must be some kind of a dream. It's the sunshine that finally clues him on. He gave up on it, didn't he, just as he cast off his humanity for something superior.

Yes… he remembers that night now, when the Joestar mansion, along with this room, the books, his clothes, his rugby ball and boxing gloves burned to ashes.

He turns away from the window and finds Jojo sitting on his bed. He looks just the same like he did before both their lives took such a drastic turn. A young man, not even twenty yet, but definitely not a boy any more. Tall and strong, his clothes telling of wealth, but not of good taste.

"Whatever you're trying Jojo," Dio tells this appearance from the past, "it's not going to work. You have already lost."

"I'm not…" he falters in his obviously false denial under Dio's stare. That fills the blond with satisfaction. He liked it better when he could still intimidate his adopted brother. By the end it wasn't working anymore, and look at all the complications that has caused. "I just wanted to ask my watch back."

"Your watch?"

"Yes, you remember… the one you… _borrowed."_

Quite inexplicably, Dio is suddenly sure it's in his pocket. But he doesn't reach to confirm, he doesn't want the other to know it.

"Why are you asking for it? Surely you could have brought a new one."

"I liked that watch, Dio. Father gave it to me as a present when I turned ten. It would be nice if you could give it back."

"I don't have it any longer, Jojo," Dio lies. "I'm no longer bound by time, now, that I'm so much more than a mere human."

"Oh," he looks crestfallen, ignoring, probably only to irritate Dio, his brag about his superiority. "What have become of it?"

"Who knows? I don't keep track of all trinkets." He was actually fond of that watch, maybe simply because he could take it so easily from Jonathan. But it was a nice piece, heavy, ornamented, obviously expensive. It was with him the night he used the stone mask on himself, and now, in this dream it returned to him, which showed it belonged to him more than to Jojo, ever.

"Oh," Jojo repeats, but doesn't seem inclined to argue about it. They just stare at each other for an uncomfortable minute.

"If there's nothing else, you can go," Dio tells him dismissively, pointing where the door is supposed to be - but it is _not_ there, the wall intact at its place.

"I don't think I can," Jojo tells him with an apologetic shrug, "You brought me here somehow, Dio."

"Then I let you go," anger is rising in him. He doesn't want to talk to the Joestar about stupid watches as if that was the biggest conflict between them. "Do you hear it, Jojo?! _Get. Lost!"_

"I'd rather be somewhere else," his tone is still mild. That infuriates the vampire further. He _knows_ he can anger this oaf to the point where his forbearance shatters, even if his level of tolerance of acts committed against him is ridiculously high. Dio remembers those punches, not to mention these three times he almost managed to kill him. "But maybe we have things to settle before I can move on?"

"So you're here for vengeance."

"No," he looks surprised that Dio is suggesting it at all, as if it wouldn't make sense. Jonathan, the haunting ghost. "I think we just need to talk. I'm not sure of why I'm here, to be honest. But I know it's not for revenge. I've forgiven you."

After their zenith of their childhood conflicts, Dio realized he had to learn to keep a firm rein on his anger. It was his biggest weakness, he knew very well. It made him vulnerable. He wanted to feel in control of his fate, wanted to be able to look down at the rest of humanity with cold contempt. Fury exposed his weak points, and he loathed that feeling. He's been doing a good job, keeping it at bay, but somehow Jojo still managed to get under his skin.

His anger has been burning just below the surface throughout this whole conversation and now it erupts. His vision is white-hot and he hears his voice rising to a shriek, but he's unable to do anything against it.

"Who the hell wants your forgiveness, Jojo?! Who gave you the _right_ to judge and _forgive_ as it pleases you?! Who do you think you are to do that?!"

"It's my own choice, Dio," Jonathan looks calm, even when the blond gets close. He's on his guard though, and manages to catch his wrist when he wants to land a punch on his stupid face. They struggle, and somehow Dio finds himself on his back on the bed, being hold down by the Joestar.

"Let me go, Jojo!" he screams. "I'll make you pay the price you should have paid years ago! I'll completely destroy you! Jojo! I'll eradicate whatever is left of you, this… ghost, this spirit! I'll wipe out even the memory of your existence. Jojo!"

 ***/*/***

" _Jojo!"_

His voice echoes inside the coffin. It's so perfectly dark, it takes him a while to realize his eyes are open wide and staring at the top of the crate.

With a frustratingly large effort, he raises his hands. They are shaking, muscles twitching, but they are at least somewhat under his control. It will take a while to rule this body fully, he sees it now. Blood would help, but right now even the fish that must be swimming outside his shelter is out of his reach.

He runs the trembling fingers down on his neck to where he and Jonathan meet.

 _No_ , he needs to stop thinking of this body as Jonathan. Needs to stop thinking about him at all, so he can really be swallowed into oblivion.

He touches the scar where his neck and new body meets. The gash is still open, he can push his fingers in till the first digit. But even if it's a slow process, he is healing, and that's what it matters.

He shifts and his arm brushes against Jojo's severed head. He feels too worn out to be annoyed by how he reminds Dio again of his past existence. He twines his fingers into its hair and lifts it up as much as he can at this tight place. With his other hand he ghosts over his features. He feels as peaceful as he looked at the moment of his death. Of course. Beheaded corpses of mortals don't change their expressions.

He puts it down on his chest and as if by their own volition, his arms embrace it. He wonders if this body still considers himself Jonathan, as the pose is familiar. Jojo held him like this on the ship.

 _I've forgiven you,_ he said in that… dream, or whatever it was. So stupid. Surely, it was only his mind playing tricks with him, but that is maybe not a surprise after all that happened.

He just needs a bit of rest, to claim this body completely as his own. Gather strength, and then break out from here.

First of all, he needs sleep.

 ***/*/***

When sunshine tickles his face, Dio rolls to his stomach and buries his face in his pillow, thinking that he needs a few more minutes before he can start his day.

It takes him a couple of heartbeats to recognise the falseness of the scene, with the warm rays of light and the softness of his bed.

"Jojo?" he questions without raising his head.

"I'm here, Dio," comes the confirmation that he's back in that dream.

He'll ignore him, Dio decides. The bed is more comfortable then the coffin, even if it's not real, so with the knowledge that he's in truth alone, he'll just continue sleeping.

Jojo is moving about the room. The blond frowns, trying to stick to his resolve.

The chair creaks and he can't help but turn his head and take a peek at what's he doing.

Jonathan sat down at his desk and apparently is checking around.

"You are _not_ rummaging through my things, are you, Jojo?" he asks threateningly and the Joestar turns back to him.

"I was just checking what you are reading. _Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus._ I never knew you were interested in such stories, but maybe it's not a surprise in retrospect."

"I've no idea what are you talking about. Put that book down," If you ask Dio, Victor Frankenstein was a charlatan, who didn't recognise the value of his own creation, while Dio used his creatures to their full potential. But something is fishy with that book, the way it keeps changing and he's not about to discuss living deads of any kind with Jonathan anyway.

Now that he recognised his presence, Jojo is looking at him expectantly. Dio sits up and scowls at him.

"How does it feel?" he asks when it becomes obvious the blond won't talk.

"How does _what_ feel?"

"You know. To be a vampire."

"Better than anything your pitiful mind can imagine, Jojo. It's a whole new level of existence, the feeling of superiority and the clearness of how feeble humanity is. But if you are wishing for it, it's too late. You should have listened to me on the ship and not just… die."

"I wouldn't want it, Dio," Jonathan denies softly. "Dying is really not the worst thing that can happen to you. I'm just curious, whether you think it was worth all that happened."

 _All that you've done,_ he probably means. Dio sneers at him.

"Of course it was worth all. The gains are so in favour of the losses. Jojo, you can't possibly comprehend this. I am immortal. More powerful than any men. It's impossible to describe it to someone so below my level what does it feel like. I'd be willing to pay _any_ price for this."

"But don't you feel any regret at all? For killing father, at least. He took you in and treated you well - often better than me. Don't you think…"

"Jojo," he interrupts. "I don't care about your father, I never did. And if possible, I care even less for anyone else I sacrificed to gain _this."_

He expects the Joestar to be infuriated. He knows he can be. He has seen him really furious on rare occasions, but they were something to remember in all cases. That night when the mansion burned down, Dio learned that Jojo's fury was a thing to behold, when even with his bones crushed, clothes, skin and hair on flames, tears in his eyes he struck Dio down.

But this time he looks only sad. Dio relaxes his muscles - he was expecting a fight and he's ready to attack or jump away if Jojo so much as moves in his direction.

"I don't care for you either," he adds, in case it doesn't go without saying.

"I know that," Jonathan makes a small, melancholic laugh that doesn't fit him at all. "I rather wish though that you would just let me go in this case… or that you have at least allowed me a bit more time before our final fight on the boat…"

Dio sneers. He doesn't like to admit mistakes, and he's not willing to do so now. Attacking Jonathan on the ship was a challenge and a necessity. He _could have_ chosen a different host, someone more easily conquered, but it was only Jonathan who proved himself worthy.

It would have been foolish of him not to respect… no, _admire,_ Jojo's courage, his fighting spirit, his power that was inhuman despite him being a mortal man. But he was also overcome with the feeling that their destinies couldn't be separated, that the only way forward was to tie those two threads of fate into one. To become one with him. And what would have been a most perfect fulfilment than have Jojo live as his body?

There was this slight… divergence from his plan, with the way Jonathan protested his fate and which resulted in Dio being closed in his coffin, sinking to the bottom of the ocean, but he did claim his body in the end. It was annoying that after voicing his appreciation, after finally coming out as the victor, he had to spend time with the ghost of the man, answering silly questions about regret, and doing his best to look unflinching into soulful blue eyes.

"I would have allowed you a painless death," he says when the silence gets too long. "But you just _had to_ put up a fuss. If you didn't, we wouldn't be here now, the ship wouldn't have exploded along with your precious Erina."

"She survived," Jojo states with conviction. "I know she did."

"Good riddance," Dio mutters. He lost interest in this conversation. He cares very little about Jojo's feelings, he cares even less for his wife, whether she is dead or alive.

He lies down again, turning away from the other. It takes intense concentration, but he manages to think of nothing until Jonathan's presence fades away.

 ***/*/***

Back in the coffin he carefully sets Jojo's head aside as much as the confining place makes it possible. They need to separate for good. He doesn't know what to make of his old room - maybe it's simply a dream, maybe his mind is playing tricks with him, recreating the place with his old stuff, with the door missing and with Jonathan there.

But there's a slight chance that Jojo's ghost is lingering nearby his body still, and Dio is meeting it at that imaginary room. His own example shows that life beyond death is possible, and just because he's never seen a spirit before, it doesn't mean they can't exist. But if that's the case, he won't stand for the Joestar haunting him, harassing him with idiotic questions and spouting nonsense about forgiveness.

The body is his now, and he doesn't even need to spare one single thought to its previous owner. He runs his still shaky hands down his chest, touching pleasingly hard muscles. It's a good body, a strong body, and undeniably, a pleasing body. He had seen it enough times in the locker room after rugby practices to be able to picture it clearly even in the complete darkness. It's not exactly as his own, old body had been, it's taller, more robust, but all things considered, it was worth going through all the trouble for getting it.

Jojo has no other choice but to accept that Dio took it away from him like he'd taken everything else. He put up quite a fight, but it's now over. His fate was to give all, and Dio's to seize everything he wanted.

He puts his fist against the top of the coffin, but even without trying to push, he knows he lacks the strength to open it.

 _Patience,_ he reminds himself. Such a creature as he became, he's no longer bound by time as humans are. He needs to rest. And damn sure he won't let Jojo invade his dreams again.

 ***/*/***

He opens his eyes and for a long minute he just stares angrily at the back of the dark haired, thick head of his adopted brother.

Sitting at Dio's desk, Jojo seems totally immersed in the book he's reading, and doesn't seem to feel the murderous glare digging right into his nape. Maybe he's unaffected as he's already dead.

Silently as he can, he stands and sneaks up behind the other to look over his shoulder. He recognises the novel by a few lines easily.

" _But I don't want to go among mad people," Alice remarked._

 _"Oh, you can't help that," said the Cat: "we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad."_

 _"How do you know I'm mad?" said Alice._

 _"You must be," said the Cat, "or you wouldn't have come here."_

Overcome with sudden, inexplicable anger, Dio tears the book from Jojo's hands and throws it out the window. It's a pity that it is open, so the movement is not followed by the satisfactory clatter of broken glass.

"I'm not mad," he growls while innocent, blue eyes blink up at him with surprise - but not with shock over his sudden appearance or at his outburst.

"Oh," he says. "You're awake."

It doesn't matter that he's already dead, he will kill the stupid oaf.

"What are you doing with the books?!" he demands. "Whatever you mean by keep changing them, I don't give a _shit!_ You will accomplish nothing!"

"But it was just a book, Dio… I found it on your table, and started reading while you slept. I wasn't even sure I liked it. You have pretty strange books."

"It's not my… I haven't been sleeping. If anything, I'm dreaming right now."

"It did look to me as if you were sleeping," Jojo mutters, and against his better judgement, Dio lets himself be distracted from his anger. Maybe with the help of this imaginary Jonathan, he can figure out what this place is, and use it to escape from his coffin too.

"How do I look like to you when I'm not here?"

"You're just sleeping Dio, and I'm not able to wake you."

"You are just a ghost or an image my mind conjures. You don't even exist if _I_ don't dream about _you_."

"You've always been very adamant on proving I'm nothing compared to you, Dio," Jonathan remarks mildly.

His anger mostly evaporated, Dio just sneers and turns away from him. As if that ever needed proving.

He walks to the window and looks out. The book is nowhere to be seen, and he is not even really surprised about it. The garden is still - not the way he remembers it to be, when the gardener, the other house staff or the Joestars could walk out any minute to ruin the view. No, it's still like a painting, only giving the appearance of a pleasant summer morning - there's no breeze outside, not even a leaf quivers, no buzz of bugs, songs of birds is heard. There's no door on the room, Dio thinks, as there's _nothing_ outside. It just confirms his suspicion that these encounters with Jojo are only happening in his head. But if that's the case, it has to be in his power to stop them.

He turns back to this annoying ghost haunting him and growls on a low voice when he sees a new book on the table.

"What it is this time?" he demands.

" _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ ," the Joestar says, peering at the title. "Listen, Dio," he goes on, when the blond takes a deep breath to curse him and the whole situation again. "Apparently there's nothing we can do about this place, so why don't we just… talk?"

"Talk?"

"Yes, just discuss some of the things we couldn't really talk about before… honestly, like we never could before. All is over now, so maybe we just need to settle what is between us to… move on."

"I won," Dio states as he doesn't like how Jonathan makes it sound as if he's dead as well. "I killed you and now I'll live on - forever."

With what appears to be an unconscious gesture, Jojo touches his neck, at the exact spot it was severed in reality. It's an absurd thing to realize, but Dio just becomes aware how he's using his old, human, by now destroyed body here. But of course, this is just a dream. His mind obviously couldn't get used to the new body it controls yet, and conjures this familiar one. It's all very logical, but it still makes him feel somehow dizzy.

He sits down on the edge of the bed, and Jojo, who obviously was replying something, stops talking and blinks at him with concern. The ridiculous bastard.

"Would that be too much?" he asks.

"Would _what_ be too much?"

"To just… talk. I really just want to get to know you better. To understand why you did the things you did. Wherever we are… I guess we have the time now to do it."

"I'm not dead," Dio reminds him. Jojo just shrugs. "What an earth do you think we have in common to talk about, anyway?"

"I don't know… school? Books? Rugby? We weren't a bad team in rugby. You liked playing it too, didn't you?"

"It was...a passable sport," Dio admits, as he sees no harm in doing so. Jonathan had been so passionate about it, trying with all his might and doing his best to win every game. That, combined with Dio's agility and cunning, did allow them to win them most of the time, and Dio enjoyed winning.

"I was so nervous before our first match, remember?" Jojo asks with a soft smile. "I tried to keep it together as you were cool as you please."

Dio remembers feeling pale and dizzy on the morning of that match, and how his stomach seemed to shrink so small he could hardly swallow a few bites of his breakfast. He hated Jojo for being able to shovel in everything on his plate.

"Were you? I only remember you eating a lot."

"I always eat a lot when I'm nervous!" Jojo laughs. It's an absurdly careless sound, and he should find it annoying and not pleasant. After all that happened, a rugby match from six, seven years ago shouldn't matter at all, nor does it makes any sense why Dio finds it reassuring to know how his adoptive brother wasn't faring any better at the time than he was.

"Why am I surprised at all," he smirks. "But for a first timer, you didn't do _too_ badly."

"Hey, you were a first timer as well. But _we_ did good and won the match."

"Barely."

"Coach even praised us. Kinda."

"You mean he didn't try to flay you publicly."

It's a silly little thing, talking about rugby matches, of old victories and losses. On the scale of all things, they weigh so little. It's an innocent thing really and as such so unfitting Dio, the lord of the darkness he'd become. Yet he indulges, and even enjoys recalling these rare harmless episodes of the past.

Jojo doesn't seem to want to get anything out of this conversation and his simple-mindedness is liberating. They drift from rugby to boxing, then to soccer, riding, and even to ridiculous cycling. They talk… well, Dio would say late into the night, if the light coming through the window wouldn't stay exactly the same. Inexplicably he becomes tired and interrupts Jonathan's half-hearted explanations to make croquet sound less boring than it is with a jaw-cracking yawn.

He doesn't exactly have a control over his body as he lies back on the bed. His lids feel too heavy to keep his eyes open.

"It wasn't that bad, was it?" he hears Jojo asking before darkness envelops him.

 ***/*/***

Without really being conscious that he's doing so, Dio sets a pattern. When he's in the reality of the dark, confining coffin, he concentrates on his vampiric powers to heal the wound separating him and Jonathan's body. It's a painstakingly slow work and he has to remind himself again and again to be patient.

He gets rest in his imaginary old room at the Joestar mansion. Jonathan is always there, but with each occasion he minds it less and less. They often talk, mostly of safe nonsense like sports, old schoolmates Dio never cared about, fashion notions of the Aesthetic dresses, what probably neither of them ever cared about. Books as well, mostly inspired by the ever changing one on the desk. It doesn't take long to realize that whatever appears is strongly affected by his mood. He also suspects Jojo's state of mind plays in a role in it too, and from time to time again he gets angered about it.

Finding _The Count of Monte Cristo_ only makes him snort - as he _will_ escape his imprisonment, but _The Prince and the Pauper_ gets the worse out of his temper. Though shouting with Jojo is still better than faking a civilized discussion on bicycles superiority over penny-farthing.

Other than books Dio is unhappy to see on his desk, talks about the dark powers of the Stone Mask versus the light of Hamon are also a sure way to bring forth a quarrel. When Jojo confesses on Dio's prying that he can't use his ripple technique in this otherworld room, the blond only believes him as he can't feel his own vampiric powers either. They are, for all appearances, their old selves, who were still living in the mansion. Two young men, nearing their twenties, without their intent and capability to conquer or save the world. But it doesn't mean they can't talk and argue of the superhuman powers they learned.

If Dio wants to get Jojo off his back a bit, he just has to tap his bottom lip thoughtfully, and start to muse about the two knights he brought back to existence and ask with feigned curiosity about the fate of the man with that ridiculous moustache and hat.

It works wonderfully, Jojo goes pale and whispers he should at least remember the name of persons whose deaths he was responsible for. Dio just laughs and shrugs, enjoying the pained silence from the other that follows.

Yet next time, Jonathan talks about this Zeppeli, the way he taught him the Hamon, about how his last gift to him, _his final ripple,_ as he calls it, gave Jojo strength to conquer over Dio in the tower. On this occasion it's the blond who pales, remembering the biting pain, the unexpected defeat when he thought himself invincible.

Maybe Jonathan enjoys these occasional arguments too, as he certainly never backs down from them. Dio remembers the look in his eyes from their childhood, the way they've darkened over with determination whenever he really set his mind on something. Bullying him worked so well in the beginning, yet the stupid, naive, helpless crybaby he initially took him for got out of his shadow and thwarted his grand plans. In retrospect it's clear that Jojo learning to stand his ground was what caused all the issues, the way he learned how to defy him. Maybe he was too soft with him…

What he doesn't remember is Jonathan bringing forth any argument in their past. Maybe he's just as bored with the socially acceptable topics as Dio is and that's why he initiates more argument-risky conversations now, in the room.

"If you succeeded in poisoning father," he says out of the blue one day, "would I have been the next?"

They are playing chess - or more accurately, Dio is trying to teach him more than to brainlessly shuffle the pieces across the board, so a match would last more than ten minutes. They use his old set - the one carefully packed away into his suitcase when he moved here, it at least filled the space in it. He could have gotten a new one, but with Lord Joestar they usually played on the old man's own set, and Dio wasn't really looking for any new partner. So the battered, cheap pieces and board were sitting in his drawer, untouched for years by the time the flames consumed it with everything else. But in this recreated room they were waiting for him, and even if Jojo is an incompetent opponent, chess is still good for passing time.

For a few seconds he pretends to contemplate his next move before nudging his white knight. Its unpredictable jumps never fail to confuse Jojo.

When he looks up, the Joestar is regarding him calmly, not even sparing a glance at the board.

"Concentrate, Jojo," he childes. "You will never learn to play decently this way."

"Dio…"

"Yes," he sighs. "Of course. You were in my way."

"To get the Joestar fortune? Was it all for the money, Dio?"

"It's your turn now. And don't always hesitate to sacrifice your miserable pawns for heaven's sake. That's what they are for - to give their life for the king."

"Because if there was any other reason," Jojo goes on, ignoring their game completely, "that would make it a bit easier to understand."

"What other reasons would I have needed?" Dio snaps.

"But to kill us only for money…" Jonathan frowns.

"Only someone like you, born into wealth, would say _only money,_ Jojo," his fingers ghost over the rook, tempted to throw it at Jonathan's head.

"Father… he would have supported you after your graduation too. He said you were family. I would have done the same, but we were… well, never really on the best terms, were we, so I guess you couldn't trust me. But father… what did he ever do to you to act against him like that?"

"His death would have gained me more than him staying alive. What other motive did I need? Or do you suspect your father committing something against me to trigger his fate? It would make sense, wouldn't it?"

"No!" Jonathan denies quickly, with just a hint of uncertainty on his too-honest face. "I mean, I know he was overly strict at times, but he just wanted the best for us. You knew that, right?"

"But Jojo," Dio draws out the two syllables of his nickname, tapping his forefinger against his lips as if deep in thought, " _father_ was never strict with me, was he? Only ever with you. One might wonder why that was. One might come to the conclusion he had some ulterior motive behind his acts. Who on earth ever heard of a nobleman taking in some poor street urchin and treating him better than his own son - and never wanting anything at all in return?"

"What are you hinting at, Dio?" Jonathan has gone pale and the blond silently congratulates himself for the small victory of upsetting him.

"It would explain a lot of things, don't you agree, Jojo?" he asks on a soft voice. "Why he took me in. Why he took care of me. Why he never punished me. If he asked something in return, simple as a touch or a caress… how could have I refused, an orphan, who had nowhere to go, who was penniless without his generousness…?"

Jojo stands up suddenly, grasping the edges of the chessboard, upsetting the pieces.

"Dio…!" he rasps. There are two bright spots of red on his otherwise still pale face. "Tell me he didn't...! Dio…" the way he says his name is a plea. It fills the Brando with immerse satisfaction.

He turns his head to look out the window, at the still scenery. In truth, he was expecting Lord Joestar to do something like that for years. He wouldn't have protested - giving his body wouldn't have equalled the price of hospitality he was given, the clothes, the food, this room, his studies. He wouldn't even had particularly ill feelings about it. Others wouldn't have given the tenth in value for something so worthless than a poor boy's virginity.

It would have made the pieces fall into their places. It would have made more sense than the feeling of gratitude he claimed, for Dio's father saving his life. Dario Brando wouldn't have saved his own mother from drowning even if he had to do only as much as to extend his hand to her. Surely, Dio reasoned, his patron couldn't be this gullible.

He feels Jojo trembling next to him with fearful anticipation, but he doesn't feel so generous as to tell him the truth, so just shrugs.

"What difference does it make whether he _did_ or _didn't_? In the end, I brought his end, even if not by the way I meant it. That's all you need to know."

*/*/*

"Dio…" Jonathan starts the next time the blond wakes in his bed, not even giving him the usual time to adjust, not even to look around. "Did you kill Danny?"

"Who…?" Dio asks, still confused in the bright room after the impenetrable darkness of the coffin. Jojo is crouching next to the bed, looking at him with deep concern as if the answer would solve all the issues of the world.

"Danny!"

"Oh, you mean the mutt?"

"Of course I mean him!" Jonathan gapes at him, totally affronted and Dio can't quite repress his lips twitching up to a grin.

"Jojo…" he sighs. "On the scale of all things that had happened… does it really matter? You _know_ I killed your father, and tried to kill you. Repeatedly. And that I managed to kill you in the end. You've also seen me murder… I can't even possibly count how many men. What is that dog compared to that?"

Jonathan sighs and sits down on the edge of the mattress. Dio scoots over a bit. Why are they having this conversation with him still lying in the bed, he doesn't know, but feels too lazy to sit up.

"You know Dio, Danny was more than simply a dog to me, he was my friend." Yes, Dio remembers this ridiculous detail. That was the whole point of getting rid of the mongrel. "I've suspected you were responsible for his death for long years and now I wonder - If I had shown more goodwill to you, believed the best of you, would things have turned out differently? Did I push you on this road with thinking evil of you because we didn't get along as kids?"

Dio just stares at him. He can't really be this naive, can he? He doesn't know what to feel, amusement over Jonathan willing to take the blame or anger for thinking he could have had a say in how Dio's destiny turned out.

"Yes," he says carefully. "I think you're entirely at fault here. You could have simply done what I wanted you to do, and save everyone a lot of grief. I mean… it was simple enough, wasn't it? You were to step back to the shadows, let me get the most out of the situation. Then you should have died silently. But no, you just had to stand your ground, didn't you?"

"So, have you…?" Quite insistent, isn't he?

"Jojo, you _know_ that I did. It was only a fair payback for you attacking me _like that_."

"You insulted Erina! And… all that other stuff you did… Danny, he had nothing to with what was between us. And he suffered so much… you burnt him alive!"

"I hate dogs," he shrugs. Jonathan jumps to his feet. If Dio wasn't lying still, he'd probably punch him, but of course even his ghost is too much of a gentleman to attack him when he can't defend himself. "Don't be such a brat," he chides, "you've taken your revenge. You burnt me too, remember? Not to mention chopping me to pieces."

"I wish you've died with me, Dio," Jojo closes his eyes. "Then we wouldn't be here."

"But I'm no longer human, remember? I just can't be killed. In the end, I'm victorious. Oh, don't make that face. You, after all, did your best, even if it wasn't enough."

"Is that why you don't let me go, Dio? Because I did my best, and as you said that made me the only person you respect? Is that what ties us together?"

"I'm not holding you back," Dio sneers. "You're just too stubborn, too stupid to realize there's nothing you can do anymore and keep loitering around here, annoying me."

"No, I don't think that's true. I've been thinking things through while you slept, Dio. I think this is your place. It's your room after all. You are somehow keeping me here, keeping me from moving away. I've did what I could, I don't think that I have anything else left than to settle things with you."

He moves away from the bed, to the chair by the table. Dio sits up and sneers at his back. Yes, he thinks to himself, Jojo is dead, he should disappear. He, Dio stayed alive, and he certainly doesn't need such an oaf around, never needed him.

His insides feel frozen though. Just the thought of staying here, alone in this room, just as he's alone in the coffin under the ocean, fills him with fright.

"So why don't you go?" he asks with contempt in his voice to disguise it. "Go to your father, your stupid mutt, your wife. I'm not holding you back."

Jonathan doesn't seem to be angered any more. He was always like this, his temper flaring up for a fight, but then settling back to his usual amicability quickly. Dio used to take it for weakness, and his readiness to forgive as stupidity. Since that night in the castle where Jojo defeated him, he knows better. He learned to respect this man then - like he never respected anyone else and is sure will never do so again either. But he said that once to him, on the ship, and he's not going to repeat himself.

"Erina is not dead, Dio," Jojo says, missing his point totally. "I _know_ she survived."

 _Good riddance._

"Is that why you linger around still? You don't have to hurry to meet her yet?"

"You know Dio, on the ship I thought we settled things. I was at peace then and I thought that maybe, you've accepted our fate too. But you stayed alive and we are here now. I don't know why or how and probably it doesn't even matter. As you said we're kind of two halves of one person. There's no escape for us I think, until we solve the puzzle that is our mutual destiny."

Dio stares at him. Jojo looks back solemn and calm. It's the same feeling that has overtook him on the ship, the feeling of helplessness of doing anything against the other's will, the feeling of unnatural peace as he finds he doesn't really want to do anything against it.

But it didn't do on the ship, and won't do now. With some difficulty he breaks eye contact. His glance falls on the book lying open on the table. Jojo follows his glance and picks the thick volume up.

" _A good player who loses at chess is genuinely convinced that he has lost because of a mistake,"_ he reads out loud without Dio needing to prompt him, calm and a bit monotone, someone who has no practice in emphasising a text at the right places, to speak in front of an audience, _"and he looks for this mistake in the beginning of his game, but forgets that there were also mistakes at every step in the course of the game, that none of his moves were perfect. The mistake he pays attention to is conspicuous only because his opponent took advantage of it."_

Dio sighs and decides he doesn't care for this message. Jonathan is frowning at the page, maybe trying to make sense of it.

"What do you say," he asks at last, "shall we play chess?"

"I wouldn't call you moving pieces aimlessly around playing," he replies, getting to his feet to set up the board, "but as we established we're closed together here for a while, I can try the impossible and improve your skills."

 ***/*/***

There are times when he just lies in the coffin, staring into the darkness, until he can't even tell if his eyes are open or not. How much time has passed? A month, a year, a decade or more? It's impossible to tell.

Inside the crate time has no meaning. He has the feeling the wound on his neck is closing up very slowly, but how does it transfer to days and weeks, he doesn't know. If he reached for Jonathan's head, what would he find? Would it be still intact, or just a mass of rotting flesh? Or nothing but a skull? It would give some indication of the time passed, but Dio can't bring himself to check.

The shelter he created proves to be impeccable, not even water is seeping in. No matter how he tries, Dio is unable to lift the perfectly fitting lid. Who knows how deep underwater he's resting. The whole ocean is pressing down on his coffin from the outside.

His dedication on not giving up trying and trying to open the box is waning. He _knows_ he spends more and more time in that bright room, but he convinces himself there is no harm to it. He's no longer human, he has no need to hurry.

Spending time with Jojo is proving to be more entertaining than he ever suspected too.

 ***/*/***

Slowly, after many senseless bloodbaths on the field, Jonathan gets somewhat better at chess. Dio can still beat him easily, but at least he can take some pleasure in his victory, now that it's no longer just massacring the helpless black pieces. He can now enjoy how the elegant slide of his knight, his favourite piece. He always plays with white.

"Check-mate."

Jojo gives a resigned sigh, while Dio doesn't even try to hide his satisfied grin.

"I thought I had it this time," he says pensively, large, calloused fingers caressing the white queen he managed to capture, with surprising gentleness.

Dio laughs unkindly and extends his hand to the piece, but Jojo ignores the gesture.

"Give her back," he demands the same time Jojo asks him.

"Did you fancy Erina?"

"What?" he asks flummoxed, drawing his hand back.

"Did you like her?"

"Why on earth would I have liked her?"

"Because she was really kind, and pretty, and brave…"

"That's not what I meant," Dio cuts him off, not wanting to listen the virtues of Jojo's widow at all. "What gave you the idea that I was ever attracted to her?"

"You kissed her! I thought it was because you didn't really know how to get close to her."

"It was always about you, Jojo, never about her."

Silence follows that statement and Dio can't comprehend what prompted him to say out the truth like that.

"Uhm," Jojo says without eloquence.

"Don't take me wrong," Dio leans back in his chair, playing to look cool. "I only wanted to unbalance you. It was annoying how you kept having your indecent fun with her."

"We never did anything indecent!"

"Oh, really? I think that would have been just the matter of time if I didn't intervene. You were already spending time alone with her - _taking a swim with her!"_ The little bitch was already set on claiming Jojo at the time. It's such an uplifting thought that her parade as Mrs. Joestar only lasted a day. Dio takes a moment to wish from the bottom of his heart that Jojo was wrong and she didn't survive the ship's explosion. "But anyway - at least she had one nice kiss in her life. She seemed to enjoy it quite a lot."

Jojo puts down the white queen at last and stands up. There's something dangerous in his blue eyes, which sends a spark of anticipation running down Dio's spine. He knows from experience that and angered Jonathan is a dangerous opponent. It was right after that kiss with Erina - which certainly neither she nor he enjoyed - when he first managed to take the blond by surprise.

It takes quite some self-control to remain sitting and not take a defensive stand in preparing for the blow. Dio reminds himself that he is nothing but an image created by his mind, that he, Dio has no reason to be wary of any human or ghost.

But Jonathan doesn't start a fight, so Dio can't learn how it would go in this imaginary universe.

"I wish," he says on a soft voice "I knew a way to be sure when you're telling the truth. So was it about me, Dio, and was it about giving Erina an enjoyable kiss? You're so confusing."

He doesn't have an answer for that. It was about making Jojo suffer… but it wasn't simply that, he knows, even if he never bothered to think more deeply about it. His glance lands on the book on the table, pushed to the side to make room for the chessboard. William Blake's _Marriage of Heaven and Hell_.

"I'll tell you what, Jojo." he smirks up at the taller man. "When you manage to beat me in chess, I'll give you your truth."

The determined expression on the other's face is almost foreboding. But hell will sooner freeze over than him to beat Dio, so there's no need to worry.

 ***/*/***

 _Those who restrain desire, do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained._

Dio liked that line very much from Blake's work, and he finds it infuriating that all the sudden he finds a second meaning to it.

It is of course Jonathan's fault and his useless questioning about Erina.

He can't deny that he's felt some kind of an attraction for Jojo. It started when they were around fourteen and Jojo suddenly, what appeared to be under a fortnight, but was surely more, grow tall and muscled. Yes, he had a nice body, and as Dio didn't think much of their era's morals, he saw no reason why not to appreciate it. Of course, in their adolescence, it was bound to cause him a few embarrassing moments - playing a rugby match or trying to concentrate in class while having a persistent hard-on was inconvenient enough to vow on making Jojo pay for doing it to him - but he always reassured himself it was nothing but a psychical reaction, nothing to concern himself with.

Probably it was due to this attraction to Jonathan's physique that made him experiment with both sexes. With moving in the right circles he learned quickly enough that noblemen and their sons were willing to try out a surprising variety of things as long as they could reassure themselves society wouldn't get wind of it. Lord Joestar and his annoying offspring were rather an exception than the standard how their peers behaved.

If now and then he thought of Jojo while caught up in the act, there wasn't much to it, was there?

Careful not to touch the severed head lying about his knees, Dio runs his hand down on the chest of this body he lusted after for so long. Muscles are hard and firm below the shirt stiffened with blood and grime. The thought hits him that in the end he managed to have it, though not in the way he fantasized about it.

He chuckles, the sound echoing more grimly than mirthfully inside the coffin. Well, that was when he still considered himself a human, a mere mortal. This unite with Jonathan - no, what is he thinking, a unite would mean some kind of a participation from the Joestar. This _claiming of_ Jojo is perfection.

He hates the nagging voice in the back of his mind, whispering that all he got are flesh and bones, inhuman, undead blood that runs sluggishly in his veins, a heart that is nothing but a knot of muscle, giving a lazy beat every now and then, more out of habit than driven by real biological need.

He never needed anything else from Jonathan, did he? Nothing ridiculous like caring, or affection, not even him returning his lustful longings.

He wishes he wouldn't remember that time when he discovered him and that little Pendleton bitch having fun. Wishes he couldn't recall the texture of the crude heart carved into the bark of the tree under his fingertips, with their names in the middle of it, like a promise. He wishes he has forgotten about that out-of-place feeling of jealousy twisting his guts.

He didn't know what to make of it at the time, and doesn't really know now either. Though that longing for Jonathan's body, and for that something more he didn't have a name for remained throughout the years. Even with all that he'd done to silence it and to fulfil his longings, the bitter taste of dissatisfaction lingers in his mouth.

Jojo's body here, in the darkness of reality, and his soul _over there,_ in that bright dream. He has no means to combine the two.

Although that's how it should be - how he made things to be – he can't stop wishing he now had the means to change it.

 ***/*/***

As it soon becomes obvious, Jojo has spent some time thinking about their conversation as well while Dio _slept_.

"I'm really sorry," he says with an unnecessarily heartfelt expression, putting a hand over his heart with a gesture that by anyone else would look dishonestly dramatic, "that you didn't have the chance to find your love in life."

"What?!" Dio barks, making a very bad move on the chessboard in surprise.

"I wonder if things would have turned out differently if you had someone to care for. A nice girl you could like and marry."

He smiles at him sadly, before nudging his rook forward.

"Are you a simpleton? I never had any interest in something as valueless as _love,"_ he makes another careless move, fuming. How typical of Jojo to completely miss the whole point.

They continue their match in silence for a few minutes. Jojo looks up at him every second moment, obviously trying hard to phrase his argument the best.

"You wouldn't have died a virgin."

The king slips from his fingers as Dio bursts out laughing. He looks at Jonathan's face - he was surely thinking hard about a new tactic to get through Dio's walls - but the carefully neutral expression he was wearing slips seeing his reaction, he flushes with embarrassed confusion and it makes Dio holler all the harder.

By the time he finally gets down from the waves of laughter, and wipes his tears from the corners of his eyes, Jojo's face is red as a tomato.

"That was unnecessary," he tells the blond, and holy hell, he hasn't seen him sulking since they were twelve.

"Jojo. Jojo," he chuckles still, "that was rich coming from a man, who, I'd be willing to wager a large sum on it, had one single experience on his wedding night. With your honeymoon cut so tragically short there wasn't a chance for a second round, was there? I hope that single night was fun at least. How long did you last inside of your precious Erina? Two minutes?"

"It's not like… don't talk about her like…"

"You were the one who brought it up. Come on, Jojo. You are a ghost, you don't have to be ashamed of anything any longer. Tell me, how long it was? Three minutes? Two? Maybe even less?" He smirks when the Joestar buries his red face in his hands. "Did you even manage to get it in? I really hope, so on the off chance Erina survived as you claim she did, she had something from you to carry with her…"

"Shut up…"

"But my dear Jojo, men talk about these kinds of thing all the time. And we are practically _brothers_. What use it is to keep secrets?"

Jojo takes his hands away from his face to glare at him. Dio uses his most innocent, fake smile.

"There's no need for you to be so crude about it."

"Then tell me simply, was it good?"

"Yes, Dio, it was good. I was happier with her than ever before in my life, and it lasted a single, glorious day, before you came along, killed or turned everyone into a mindless zombie on the ship and you and I exploded together. But even so, that happiness you can't taint. When we… after we… there was a second time for us that night, you know? And Erina… she put her hand on her belly afterwards and told me she's sure that we are going to have a boy. I'm so sorry that she was dragged into what is between us Dio, but I'm so happy to have been with her, even if it was a single night and day."

Most of the flush is gone from Jojo's face, only two bright spots remains on his cheeks. He leans back in his chair, expression a bit pained, but mostly only wishful and closes his eyes. Dio is glad for that, as he's not sure how well he manages to disguise his emotions as horrible, gnawing jealousy twists his guts. It feels like some monster is trying to claw its way out from inside him.

"You see, Jojo, how generous I am?" he manages on a throaty voice. "I could have attacked sooner and wouldn't have allowed you this one single day." He wishes he had. There was no need, absolutely no need to allow Jojo's childhood crush to be fulfilled this way.

Jonathan raises his head to smile at him sadly.

"That is now the past, Dio. Erina… I hope she's living somewhere happily, that she managed to find someone to love again. Maybe she's raising our son and her other children too."

"Don't you rather wish she is remembering you every single day and has never looked at any men again?" Dio asks, as he honestly doesn't understand this sentiment. It sounds like Jonathan is wishing Erina has forgotten about him.

"Dio, it's very painful not to let the dead go. I'm already concerned about you doing so and I hope Erina is smarter about it."

"I'm not holding you here," Dio denies, standing up and walking to the window. He can't bear to look at Jonathan any longer.

Jojo sighs, but doesn't try to contradict him.

 ***/*/***

He can't get Jonathan's damned wedding night out of his mind. He can _almost_ convince himself that it baffles him only as he wagered and did so much on taking away everything and anything the Joestar hold dear. If Erina indeed survived and was pregnant, that doesn't make much difference. That woman he never cared about more than wanting to get her out of his way, to prevent her making stupid Jojo happy, when he was supposed to be miserable.

A single night, and a round - or two - of clumsy sex really means nothing, nothing at all. He remembers Jojo's body, the way he seen it in the locker room, strong and desirable and thinks it was a waste on that bloody bitch.

He raises his hands, touching the still not completely healed wound on his neck and _their_ body below, to map it in the darkness. He unbuttons the shirt - when he gets out of here and back to his old strength, the first thing he'll do is to find some clothes, this garb is repulsive in its filthiness, and its simplicity is unfitting Dio - to touch naked skin underneath.

He wishes it isn't so impenetrably dark and there's enough space to raise his head and see.

The body is his enough to feel a pleasant tingle as his fingertips ghost over firm pecs, as they circle around nipples that satisfyingly perk up when his nails graze them.

The air in the coffin is stale and thin, and if Dio would still need it for his existence, he would have suffocated long ago. As it is, he only draws it in faster in excitement. His stolen heart picks up beat too, as he slides his palm down his stomach, slow and sensual, his touch memorizing and appreciating smooth skin and chiselled muscles.

"Jojo," he moans without being really conscious of doing so, while he wedges his hand under the bands of his pants, grazing rough pubic hair.

He pulls his legs up unconsciously as he reaches to unbutton his trousers, and the movement dislocates the severed head lying about, of which he all but forgotten by now. It rolls from around his knees, to rest against his ankle.

What condition it is in, he wonders again. How much time has passed? He could reach for it, check the texture of flesh, touch Jojo's lips if they are still intact, or the smooth bones of his skull if the softness has rotten away already.

He doesn't. He drops his hands back to lie alongside him, all his excitement gone.

 _Jonathan is gone_. It is an absurd thing to realize right now.

 ***/*/***

 _The Sorrows of Young Werther_ lies on the table once Dio wakes up in the bright room and gets up to check what it is this time. He stares at it angrily.

"Is something wrong?" Jojo asks tentatively from behind his back and the blond contemplates throwing the book at his head. He wants to demand him to tell whether he's real, but that won't get him anywhere. He hears the other fidgeting uncomfortably when the silence drags on for too long.

"You cried," he says at last, making up his mind to turn to face him. "In the tower. When you chopped my head off."

He makes it as accusatory as possible, but Jojo doesn't look guilty, just smiles sadly.

"How do you know that?"

"I was still seeing and hearing, you know. I wasn't dead. You cried, didn't you?"

"Yes…"

"Why?"

"You remember that I told you how I will feel no guilt in killing you? I suppose I was wrong. I felt very sad that our fate come to such end."

"Except that it wasn't the end."

"But I thought it was at the time."

Dio sits down on the edge of the bed, next to Jonathan to take a good look at his face. He appears so young and full of life, even if he's nothing but a memory. In this room, he is real.

He didn't dare to touch the lips of his severed head in the coffin, so he does it here. Jojo blinks at him with surprise, but doesn't pull away. His mouth is full, lush and warm. Touching just with the tips of his fingers wakes a pleasant tingle in the pit of Dio's stomach. He wants to kiss him.

"Why were you sad?" he whispers. "I thought you loathed me, wanted to kill me to avenge your father and friends."

"Because no matter what happened, I've never loathed you. And I wished, there in the tower, that you haven't forced me to defeat you. I always wondered what I could have done better so things didn't end the way they did between us. I do despise the things you've committed but… I guess I can't hate you."

"Even when I gave you so many reasons for it."

"Even so. As you said, it must have been our fate."

"Yes…"

He's leaning in so close, Jonathan has surely realized what is happening, yet he doesn't pull away, not even when there's no space left between them at all.

The kiss is soft, just the gentle move of lips against lips. Jojo's arms are around Dio's shoulders, holding him close. It doesn't last long, Jonathan pulls back just after a few moments. Not ready to let him go yet, Dio rests his forehead against the crook of his neck, even if the position makes him appear vulnerable.

 _Just for a second,_ he tells himself, _until this weakness pass._

"Dio…" Jonathan says, caressing his hair. "Dio, I think we should move away from here. I am dead and you… I think it would be better for you to accept death as well. I'm sure that nothing hurts anymore on the other side, and we…"

"What are you talking about?" he pulls back. That peaceful, warm feeling that filled him for a moment is gone, replaced by cold dread, as if he was bathing in sunshine and suddenly ice cold water is poured on his head. "I'm going to live forever. I'm not going to any kind of an otherside, with or without you!"

"Dio…" Jonathan reaches out to touch his face, but the blond jerks his head back. "I'm sure we are here to make amends. With ourselves and each other. And then to move on. The world… is not our world, anymore."

"It's not _your world,"_ he stands up, voice rising, "as you are nothing but a pathetic shadow! I, Dio however, will escape from this damned prison. I will live on and _rule_ over humans! I might be deterred, but I can't be closed away and stopped!"

"Dio, please…"

"What is your game Jojo?! You planned to lure me to believe I can trust you and drag me with you _to hell?_ You fucking idiot, who do you think you are? I am above you! I am better than you! You can't stop me!"

He is screaming, but can't help it. He feels shaken, so tries to concentrate on familiar fury rather. He was thinking… for a moment there… He felt safe in the arms of Jojo. He felt - loved. What a ridiculous notion. He has no need for love.

Jonathan tries to reach him still, tries to placate him, but he's not listening.

"Go, you wretched spirit! Disappear finally! Leave me alone! I'll never see you again! You think I'm holding you here? Well, if I did - I let you go now!" _Go!_

The room around him seems to spin, or maybe it's still, and Dio is moving backwards. Something is happening with Jonathan, he can see through him, his body is becoming translucent. Fright twists Dio's insides and he closes his eyes, _willing_ himself to be back in the coffin, rather than to see Jojo vanish.

 ***/*/***

"I don't need you," he murmurs, as he works on opening the lid. "I don't need you and never needed you."

No matter how inhumanly strong he is, with sheer force alone he can't make it open. This body was strong as a human, and became even stronger as a vampire. It must be how he couldn't suck blood the devil knows for how long, it must be the unforgiving weight of the whole ocean against him.

He tries and tries and tries. Pries at the edges, at the corners. Knocks through the whole surface of the padded lid, to find the weakest spot. Taps with his nails, bangs with his fists.

"Disappear, disappear finally," he mutters, to his prison or to Jojo who probably already did, he can't tell which. "I always just wanted to be rid of you. Accept that I won, and stop haunting me."

There must be, must be, _must be_ a way out. He can't, he won't accept otherwise. He just neglected trying hard enough till now, as Jojo lured him with that bright room, with his books and chess and talks about silly, meaningless things of the past.

He feels feverish, even if he knows he can't be. He tastes blood - he must have bitten the inside of his mouth - and it drives him mad because it just awakens his thirst for more, for the life-force of someone living.

"Let me out!" he yells, banging against the lid with full force. "Let me out, Jojo, how dare you, let me out!"

He claws the top of the box, until his nails tear off. He trashes, screams until his voice is gone. It's no use.

"I don't need you, do you hear me?! I let you go, now you let me out! Jojo!"

His voice chokes as the first waves of panic hit. Even in his maddened state, he realizes he's struggling in vain. He can blame Jojo, but even if he does have a hand in his imprisonment, he's not here, not anymore, and he can't let him out.

He laughs hysterically, until tears starts to run down his cheeks. He will live forever - alone, in this coffin, forgotten by everyone. His nails have grown back so he tears the flesh of his own face. The bloody arcs will be healed soon enough. Nothing will ever change. If he tears his useless heart out - Jonathan's heart - will it grow back too? Does he even need it? What use it has ever done to anyone?

He keeps mangling himself, keep screaming, as otherwise he has no choice but to accept reality.

"Jojo!" he gasps, as a plea or a curse, it doesn't matter. "Jojo, Jojo, Jojo, _Jojo!"_

"Dio!"

"Let me, out Jojo!"

"Dio! Dio, please wake up!"

"Jojo…"

 ***/*/***

"Dio, wake up! Do you hear me? Open your eyes, Dio!"

He does so, staring at Jojo, his solid form illuminated by the brightness coming from the window behind his back. For a moment he's confused, thinking he might be seeing an angel, before he chases that nonsense away. He's back in the room, and Jonathan is still there too, that's all. He just can't quite open his fingers where they are grasping the other's sleeves in a death grip and let him go. His breath is coming fast and his heart beats a million times under a minute.

"You're still here," he croaks.

"Oh my god, Dio, you scared me. First you collapsed _like that_ and then I couldn't wake you, you were thrashing, screaming and tearing at your face..."

"I told you to go. Why are you still here?"

"...and I panicked for a moment, as I just couldn't do anything," he continues, as if he didn't hear him, "to … wake you, but I've said that already." Dio just realizes he is leaning above him, holding him securely. It should be suffocating, but right now he's just grateful for his closeness.

"I told you that you can move on," he repeats, his voice more firm. "Why are you still here?"

"I guess I didn't think it was the right time yet," he tries to get up, but Dio can't bring himself to let him go. Jojo doesn't force it, just shifts to get more comfortable. His legs are on both sides of the blonde's hips, his weight supported on his knees and forearms. His face is just a few inches away.

"Bloody idiot, who can't just simply do as he is told," he mutters without real spite.

"What happened, Dio?"

"I can't get out," he admits. "No matter how I try, I just can't. It doesn't make sense, even with the ocean above me, with the need for blood - I should be able to open the crate," there's a moment of panic again, though not as strong as it was in the darkness. His right hand flutters up from the sleeves of Jonathan's shirt to his nape, pulling him even closer.

"Maybe it's just not the right time for you to move on yet, either."

"Is it your doing?" he demands, voice rising. "Have you done something, to imprison me?"

"No," he touches Dio's face gently, resting his palm against his cheek, "as much as I don't wish you upon the world, there's very little I can do to stop you."

"What that _little_ is, Jojo?" he hisses. His nails dig into the soft skin of the taller man's neck - he can't suck out his blood, not at this place, so it's hardly more than a desperate gesture. Jonathan winces, but doesn't pull back. "You make your body resist me, is that it? That's why I'm so weak. How dare you…"

"That body is hardly _me_ anymore, Dio. Even though I'm really concerned you just took it like that. I wonder if you will simply discard it too, one day when you are bored with it, like you did with other stuff you _borrowed_ from me."

"I can't believe you're still about that ruddy watch."

"Well, borrowing usually means asking and then giving back at one point…"

"Are you trying to change the subject, Jojo? Let me make it clear - I didn't borrow that body, I claimed it on the right of the strongest. I'm going to make it obey me, I'm going to use it however it fits me, I'm going to take total control of it!"

"You could try to be less horrible about this. It frightens me what you'll commit if you ever escape."

Regretting a small space between them, as this way he can hardly give his full force into the blow, Dio hits him.

"I _will_ escape, Jojo! No matter what you try," he cries, landing a punch again, this time successfully enough to start blood running from Jonathan's nose. His third blow is stopped with an iron grip on his wrist though, so he kicks stealthily, raising his knee up into Jonathan's firm stomach and tries to claw those damned blue eyes out with his free hand.

"Dio…! Stop it… ugh…"

Jojo jerks his head back, so the blond only manages to claw two bloody arcs on his face. Dio screams insults at him, tears at his flesh, hits and bites and now the Joestar is not holding back either as he tries to wrestle him down and keep him immobile.

Because he was having the better position for a fight, and because the lingering weakness Dio feels, he manages to do so, at last. The blond glares up at him, panting. The whole left side of his face is throbbing and he is dizzy from Jojo's last punch. But there won't be any bruise - the pain is already ebbing away, the claw marks on Jojo's cheek has closed up and disappeared already too, reminding him that no matter what happens at this place, it has no real impact on reality. Something cracks in him then, and he starts to laugh. Jonathan looks so confused at that, it just makes him laugh all the harder.

"What is so damned funny?" as Dio has no spare breath to answer, he rolls off from him with a frustrated sigh, to lie on his back. They are side by side - Dio's bed is hardly large enough to host the two of them comfortably - leg pressing against leg in a pleasant manner. The blond wants to say something about that, but one look at Jojo's sulking face triggers a new wave of guffaw.

"You are bloody crazy," Jojo mutters, covering his eyes with the back of his hand.

"This whole situation… and you. You are the most ridiculous of all," Dio says, a bit breathless with his subsiding hysteria. When Jojo wants to get up, he holds him back, grabbing his shoulders and straddling his waist, ending up sitting on his lap. He slides his palms down his chest, to pin him down with his full weight.

Summer-sky blue eyes open wide in surprise. Dio smirks down at the other man, feeling calmer now that he can at least pretend having the upper hand. Jojo seems to come to some kind of a decision as he's not trying to throw him off, but rather, relaxes under him.

The feeling of being in control is intoxicating enough to make Dio uncaring why Jojo chooses to allow him the sensation of it without putting up a fuss. Muscles are firm under his touch, and although this is the body he's been exploring in the coffin as well, it's so different like this still. Who would have thought Jonathan's head being at its usual place makes such a difference. It's so absurd, it makes him chuckle again.

"Please, don't start anew," Jojo says wearily.

"Oh shut up, you idiot," he ensures he remains properly silent with leaning down and kissing him. A flare of excitement blooms in his abdomen as the Joestar kisses him back.

First it is just lips moving against lips, dryly and _almost_ innocently, like that previous time, but soon enough it gets more heated. Jojo moans into his mouth when Dio's tongue demands entrance. One of his hands grip the blonde's thigh firmly, the other wave into his hair, firmer than a caress, but still not pulling on it painfully.

It is definitely not the best kiss Dio ever shared, but what Jojo lacks in technique, he makes up for in enthusiasm. His cooperation should be alerting - _why_ is he kissing Dio, _why_ is he holding him close, _why_ doesn't he try to protest at all, in the name of being married or both of them being men? Or at the very least, claim he doesn't want to do this with a murderer, no, a monster like Dio, responsible for so many deaths, including his own?

While Dio expects him to come to his senses any time, he also hopes he won't. If Jonathan has any ulterior motive - and Dio's paranoia insists he _must have -_ he can't make himself be worried about it right now.

His pulse and breathing is quickening again, this time from lust and not from panic, as he opens up Jonathan's shirt to touch naked skin. It's one of the older pieces he used to wear at home, not the one he died in on his honeymoon, the one his real body is wearing, just as Dio is in one of his old garbs. It's pale blue linen is clean, not stained by blood and grime, even if it's a bit rumpled, just as Jojo's clothes usually were, as if he couldn't move around with his large body carefully enough to save the results of the maids' ironing for more than ten minutes.

"Dio…" he gasps when the blonde's fingers run down on his firm stomach in a tickling caress, and it's very pleasing to hear him uttering his name like this, full of wonder and want. So he makes just a bit of a show of undressing himself, opening buttons slowly with one hand, while his other is busy exploring Jonathan's body with leisure, nails grazing against nipples, enjoying the sensation as they harden under his touch, sliding his palm down on his sides, resting them against hipbones, then cupping the bulge getting quite prominent in the Joestar's pants. He has to bit his lip to keep back a wanton moan, as he feels the taller man trembling with need under him.

He rises up on his knees, to unbutton his own trousers first - Jojo's eyes are wide and mesmerized as he watches his every move. Dio smirks as their eyes met - then Jonathan moves, lightning quick, and he can't stop him any more than he could block his punches when he got really fired up.

But there is a difference as he is still gentle as he rolls Dio on his back and clambers on top of him, to land clumsy kisses on his neck and face and it is pleasing as well, so Dio keeps him close with a rough grip on his hair. He thrusts his hips up, grinding his own, still cloth-covered erection against Jojo's abdomen.

Then it's a blur how they get rid of the remaining of their clothing. Jojo caresses where Dio claws, kisses where he bites as they roll around on the bed, humping each other like dogs in heat, Dio trying to get on top, while Jojo gently, but very successfully keeping him under himself.

When Dio feels he might scream from frustration or cry from the need to finally _come,_ he pushes the Joestar away.

"Lie on your back," he snaps, and Jonathan, after a moment of hesitation obeys.

"I think I should rather…"

"You've never done this, have you? So shut up Jojo, and do what I say for once."

He doesn't look convinced at all, he watches warily as Dio straddles his hips, as he looks around, even if he knows it to be in vain, for some kind of a lotion to ease the way in.

But he didn't keep anything like that in his room, so he won't find it now either of course. Saliva has to do then. It's not as if any harm can come to him at this place, or as if wounds won't disappear almost immediately.

He spits in his palm - ignoring Jojo's grimace - and smears it on the other's prick. That makes him forget all about his reservations obviously - he throws his head back and moans, bucking up into Dio's grip.

Under different circumstances, he'd tease him. He could stroke him till the brink of orgasm and keep him there. He could torment him with unfulfilled arousal until he cries for mercy.

But Dio is trembling with need himself. Just on the edge of his consciousness he's aware of the coffin, the total isolation and helplessness he felt, the relief that washed over him when Jojo saved him from there. He didn't disappear when Dio told him to, but this time he doesn't deserve a punishment for his disobedience.

He wants to be rid of the fright and even more of the feeling of gratitude. He wants to fuck, but more than that, he wants to be one with Jojo, like he didn't quite manage in reality.

He shifts, holding Jonathan's cock firmly as he pushes down on it. Jojo looks like as if he wants to ask something, but can't quite get any noise out but groans and whispered half-words.

It's tight, slow and painful. Jojo is large, and Dio's passage is dry and unprepared for this intrusion. But honestly, he participated in worse, with partners he didn't care for the slightest, so he's not too concerned of the ache as inch by inch he sinks lower on the cock in his arse.

Jonathan is watching him with wide-open eyes, and that is actually worse than the burn in his backside. He looks so honest - _innocent even -_ and Dio wishes his face would screw up in a lustful grimace, that he'd look greedy and defenceless, like other men look during the act.

Dio wants, but finds he can't really close his eyes. Jojo's blue gaze is mesmerizing and frightening too, as he doesn't really understand what the emotions reflecting in his eyes mean. All he knows that suddenly he feels he has no control over the situation, that he is spiralling downwards, like he was sinking down to the bottom of the ocean, like his severed head was falling down from the tower, like he was crashing down in the burning mansion, to be impaled on that statute, only this time he knows Jojo will be there to catch him, but there's a reason he can't afford that, only right now he can't remember what it is...

Jojo's hips move up and Dio's down, and the sudden, biting pain drags him back to the reality of the act. There's blood, but only a little and knowing this place, it will be gone before they finish. It does help to ease Jonathan's prick up into him for the next thrusts. Dio pushes down, taking the whole length completely. Jojo's hands are on his thighs, steadying him, but allowing him to move as he wants.

He shifts, pushes down in a different angle, and Jojo's cock brushes against a spot that shatters Dio's world into a kaleidoscope of thoughts and feelings.

It's good, more than good, it's wonderful, even if the pain is still there. Or maybe the ache amplifies the feeling of pleasure somehow. They are connected, even if that connection is bound to be painful, so it's as it should be.

 _If god exists and is controlling destiny, there's never been a relationship as calculated as ours._

The pace if quicker now, Jojo thrusting up into him, pulling him down on his length, with Dio moving against him hard as he can in this position, balancing himself with his palms on Jojo's chest, with his fingers digging ruthlessly into hard flesh, but his nemesis doesn't seem to mind the pain more than he does. It just makes the act more real.

 _The two of us are two that make one._

Laughter wants to bubble up in him again, because in a way this is a second fulfilment of his words. He took Jojo's body to live forever using it, and he's now connected in this manner to the same body. It is impossible to tell which is the more intimate, the total ownership he claimed over the other or the way Jonathan is taking him now.

There's more to it too, he can't deny that, even if he doesn't quite grasp what that _more_ exactly is. It's not simply the physical act of coupling. There's an understanding in Jonathan's eyes that Dio despises, simply because it confuses him, its meaning slipping away from him, and shouldn't it be the other way round? It should be Jojo laying here confused, uncomprehending, yet unable to resist him.

 _Dio, as you say, we may have been two people making one... And now our destinies have become one..._

"What…?" he gasps, not even knowing what he's going to ask, and he gets nowhere, as a new wave of pleasure racks his body.

Jojo is sitting up, cradling him close and Dio gives up on any rational thought for the time being. He just concentrates on moving together, on the way Jonathan's cock is sliding firmly up his arse, brushing against that same wonderful spot again and again, his arms around his waist, holding him close.

Dio grabs his hair, using it for leverage for his own, increasingly erratic movements. Jojo kisses him where he can reach, his neck, his collarbone, his shoulders.

"Dio, Dio, I'm going to…"

"Yes," he hisses, feeling his peak nearing as well. There's so little space between their bodies he can hardly sneak his hand in to grab his own bobbing erection. A few rough pulls are all he needs, and he is coming over his own hand, splattering their chests, while Jojo is shuddering under him, emptying his seed deep inside Dio's body.

If not for his grip on the other's dark mop, he would simply collapse and melt through the bed. He hears a pathetic, keening voice that he can only hope to belong to Jojo and not to himself.

In a jumble of limbs, they slide down to lie on the bed. Dio makes a half-hearted attempt to push Jojo away, but doesn't really force it when he doesn't bulge at his feeble shove.

He should say something sharp and sarcastic to put things at the right perspective, something about Jojo's obvious lack of experience, or better yet, his performance, but when he opens his mouth to do so, all that comes out is a huge yawn. Jonathan shifts the both of them into a more comfortable position, and Dio decides that right perspective can wait until he rested a bit.

 ***/*/***

He must have fallen asleep, as he's in the coffin when he opens his eyes. He sighs, shuts them closed, and goes back to sleep. He's not interested in reality right now.

 ***/*/***

Back in his room, he wakes slowly. He stretches lazily, feeling sated still. There's no lingering pain, he doesn't even feel unpleasantly sticky, which is curious. He reaches to his backside, and finds it clean and dry to the touch, there's no semen and blood dripping out slowly as it would normally bound to happen.

That's very practical of this place, he thinks, as he has no means to clean himself up.

He opens his eyes to meet Jonathan's blue gaze. He moves his hand - in a way he hopes as hell is unobtrusive - away from his arse.

Jojo is sitting on the floor, with his back against the bed, looking back over his shoulder at him. His hair is messy and his shirt is not buttoned up correctly. He looks good enough to eat, and without being really conscious of the gesture, Dio licks his lips.

He pushes himself up on his elbows and sees that Jojo is holding his watch in his hand. There's a sudden bolt of panic - in that moment he's absolutely sure that damned thing is more than simply an object which happened to miraculously reappear here. It has some function or meaning, and who knows what will happen if Jojo keeps it.

"Give it back," he commands, reaching out for it.

"It's technically mine, Dio…"

"I've borrowed it, so it's terribly rude of you to go through my pockets for it, especially when I'm not ready to give it back yet."

"I found it under the bed, Dio. I think it fall out your pocket when the clothes got on the floor, with... When we, you know…" he blushes a bit, but then, seeing Dio's insistently outstretched hand, he sighs, and finally handles the watch over. Its ornate cover is warmed by his hand, and Dio closes his own fingers around it possessively. "Here you are, but you really should give it back, when you are ready."

Dio ignores him, getting up to put his possession at safety. His clothes are folded rather messily on the chair, a tell-tale it was Jonathan's doing. He looks back at him, just to catch blue eyes darting away from his naked form quickly.

He smirks, dragging up his pants, but deciding to forgo the shirt, his undergarments or socks. He does pick up the new book lying on his table, curious to see what the room wants to tell him after his rolling around with the man he killed.

Jojo's gaze flickers back to him. He flushes a very satisfying shade of red when Dio sits down on the edge of the bed, and makes sure to push his leg against his side. He rakes his fingers through that messy, dark mop, and the Joestar leans into the caress.

"We should have done this ages ago," Dio muses. "I wonder where we'd be, if we did." Probably exactly at the same place. Fucking with his adoptive brother, no matter how satisfying it was, certainly wouldn't have changed his mind about scheming to get the Joestar fortune.

Had he seduced Jonathan in their teenhood, would the other boy have acted around him differently? Would he have been eating from the palm of his hand, doing what Dio told him to do? Maybe it would have simplified things, but then again - their destinies seems to be set from the moment they met. If not for Jonathan's mistrust, he'd have never gained the powers of the stone mask. If not for his persistence and strength, Dio wouldn't be spending time here with his ghost. The stage was set, and nothing they did, could have changed the play on it.

Absolutely ignorant of his musings about whether fates can be altered, Jojo sighs and leans his thick skull against his thigh, blinking up at him from upside down.

"I wonder if everyone's afterlife is so confusing, or is it just you, messing mine up, like you did my life."

Dio twists a handful of his hair, taking revenge for this comment, then pushes his heavy head off his thigh, gentler than he'd deserve.

Should he give the novel, _Wuthering Heights,_ he found lying on his table to him to read? Maybe it would make him reconsider his opinion on confusing lives and deaths. But he was always possessive about his books and it's more than enough if he understands their secret messages. He rather pulls forward his chessboard and sets up the pieces.

Jojo's concentration turns out to be so bad, it makes the game unenjoyable.

"You should put on your shirt!" he protests when Dio is about to shout with him to relieve his frustration. "It's impossible to think up strategies like this!"

Dio smirks and leans over the board to kiss him.

 ***/*/***

Although he is very satisfied with the room's summoning this time, he can't focus on Machiavelli's _The Prince._ He reads the sentences, but their meaning doesn't register in his brain.

It drives him up the wall that he doesn't know what Jojo is thinking about this all. After the catastrophic chess match, they had sex again, and the awaited protests and doubts just didn't come from the other man.

He should be saying, _but we are both men Dio, we shouldn't be doing this, Dio, I pledged eternal faithfulness to my wife, Dio, it's terrible that I can't resist your temptation, Dio you're Evil personified for dragging me into this, but kiss me more, Dio, I want it more than anything I've ever wanted in my life._

But he only looks a bit flushed, and otherwise completely sated and peaceful as he sits on the floor with crossed legs, moving chess pieces thoughtfully on the board, as if he has no other care in the world than managing to win at least against his own self.

"You are really a simpleton," Dio tells him with spite, snapping his book shut.

"I'm just trying to make up new tactics," he replies mildly, not even looking up.

"I'm not talking about your pitiful attempts to beat me in chess."

"Then why am I…"

"What are you thinking about this all, Jojo?"

"Uhm, you mean the room, or life after death, or chess…"

"About fucking," Dio clarifies dryly, and Jojo flushes a deep shade of red, confirming his suspicions that he is trying to be sneaky, even if he is terrible at it.

"Oh, it is really, well, pleasant. Is it for you too? Because I was worried actually, it looked a bit… uncomfortable, but you seemed to be enjoying it. I figured some things might work differently here then…"

"But _why,_ " he cuts him short, "are you not disturbed? You are - or were - a married man."

"That's different," Jojo says. He looks serious all the sudden and no longer embarrassed.

"Because you only vow _till death us do part_?"

"I love Erina," Jonathan says, and it costs Dio an effort not to flinch, "and nothing that happens between us changes that. But I want her to live, happily without me. You and I, Dio, we died together. Or at least ended up here together, and that is what I have now."

Dio looks down on the book in his hands thoughtfully. Can Jojo, naive, stupid Jojo be Machiavellian? How innocent he is, how complex a plan can he make?

"And now that you have only _this_ , Jojo, what do you plan to do with it? Stay here, keep me here forever, away from the world, away from reality? Are you trying to lure me into forgetting about what awaits me out there, imprison me in this room, take what it takes, even if it is against your so called moral standards? You are weakening your body somehow, make it disobey me over there and try to make me forget about it over here, aren't you?"

Jojo is silent as he rolls around the white knight between his palms, caressing it gently with just the tips of his fingers, watching it as if it holds the answers to all the questions of the universe. When he looks up at last, his gaze is solemn and honest.

"Dio, I told you. I think with the ship's explosion we should have disappeared together. I did my best to stop you, to save the world from you. But in those last moments, I also realized I might have been wrong with my approach. I think that's why I ended up here with you. There, in those last moments, I found that despite all what happened, I love you. That what you said about the two of us being one was true. There were two things on my mind before everything went dark. That I want Erina to live, safely and happily, want her to forget all about the horrors she saw, even if it means forgetting about me. The other is that I wish for you to find your peace, to embrace this knowledge we discovered. I still wish we could move on from here, together, the two halves finally making one. I also know by now that it will only happen when you're ready for it. Until then - I can do what little I can, to show you there is love and tenderness in the world, and that they matter more than power."

There are so many things Dio could say to this surprising monologue. That love and tenderness are only good to make someone vulnerable, like they made Jojo vulnerable, the way they exposed an opening and resulted in his death, even though he proved to be so strong. That he despises weakness, that he doesn't need the other to stay with him to delay him, or to try to make attempts which were bound to fail to make him happy and content, all the while keeping him away from reaching his ultimate goal. That Jojo is thinking like a feeble human, while Dio has become so much more.

He remains silent as there's something dangerously alluring in what Jojo is saying. For a briefest of moment he's tempted to accept this offering of love. But then he thinks of all that happened, and all that can await him still, and that moment passes. He shivers, suddenly feeling cold.

"That will never happen, Jojo."

"Even if that's the case, I still want to stay around and keep you company as long as you're here."

 ***/*/***

The third time they have sex - the next night it would be, if there would be nights here - they are lying on their sides, Jojo moving against and into him from behind. It's a bit too slow and too deep, too tender for Dio's taste. It is also very pleasurable, so he decides to bear with the inconveniences of the position. If he flushes when Jojo's lips ghost over his earlobe, if his heart beats faster when strong arms pull him flush against chiselled chest - Jojo can't see his expression, so there is no harm in it, is there?

When they finish - Dio spilling against Jonathan's palm, Jojo grunting as he releases inside, they remain cuddled close.

"I think I'm also here with you as of all people you need me the most," his lover whispers later. Dio pretends to be asleep, so he is spared from answering this nonsense.

 ***/*/***

Dio decides to don a fatalistic approach about this whole situation. For the time being he can't break out from his prison - he can hardly bear to wake up in the dark, confining place at all. In the bright room with its ever-changing book and still scenery, he can recover so much better. It ceases to matter whether it is actually real. Jonathan is a surprisingly pleasant company, especially since they extended their previous repertoire of talking, reading and playing chess with having sex. He might as well enjoy their time together while it lasts.

When it becomes unbearably idealistic, he simply provokes and argument. There are various degrees he can upset Jojo with different topics, and he has cruel enjoyment in exploring which leads where.

Least successful ones only result in Jojo getting unwilling to talk to him. He often just lies on his side, facing away from Dio, immersing himself in a book and denying that he is sulking, even if it's obvious that he does so.

"I'm not _sulking,_ I'm _hurt!"_ is his usual explanation. Dio personally doesn't see the difference. It never lasts for long, his determination to _get on well_ with the blond doesn't allow him to wallow in self-pity.

He can be however, with a bit more effort from Dio, be provoked enough to engage in an argument. Quarrels are mostly revolving around differing views on life and people. By this point neither of them is expecting to convince the other, so Jojo just talks about how he intended to lead his life, his goal to be a gentleman, the things he regrets, the things he's glad to have happened.

These talks always leave Dio slightly nauseous, maybe as he was scheming for over seven years to take exactly these things away from Jojo.

He also talks about his own plans, what he'll do once he escaped. He sometimes enjoys, sometimes simply ignores Jojo's pained or indignant expression or his occasional scandalized exclamation when he gets really invested in the details of how he will collect and create his new minions or how he plans to try out his _new body_ in every way he can think of - and Dio doesn't lack imagination.

He'd rather not talk about his past, but when in his masochistic moments Jojo asks about it, he doesn't shy away from answering.

Now _these_ can lead into real arguments. Dario Brando's death, Lord Joestar's death, that mongrel ending up being burnt alive, the policeman meeting their gruesome fate when Dio turned into a vampire, what happened to the inhabitants of Windknight's Lot and the passengers of the ship.

Jojo's anger is like a huge but lazy beast, a sleeping dragon maybe. It's very difficult to rile it up, but once it awakens it's unstoppable and destructive. Dio has seen it first in their childhood, after he kissed Erina. Last he felt it in the tower, cutting through him despite the superhuman powers he already mastered.

Here, in this close-quartered place between life and death, it's less frightening but equally thrilling to see it again. With how their relationship's dynamics changed, it also leads into surprising but immensely more pleasing results than punches or swordfight, and that's an additional reason why to provoke it.

"Yes," he gasps, one of his knees on the bed, his other leg trying to find something to brace himself against, even though he still has his socks on and the floor is slippery. So he's grabbing into the sheets, arching his back in a bow as Jojo leans over and pushes into him without the usual care or concern about his comfort, making his world explode in white-hot pleasure and pain.

He must have made a noise loud enough to get through the red haze of Jonathan's fury and lust, as he slows down, but a low growl of _harder_ from Dio is all it takes to get him pounding into him. It's the thrill of a fight, combined with the thrill of sex. He _feels_ Jonathan's towering emotions, probably because it's so easy to read him, the way he wears his heart on his sleeve, his anger, his desperation and that curious, frightening something he calls love, just as he feels the heavy weight of his body moving forcefully on top of him, his hard cock up his arse, his quick pulse and fast breathing.

It's over much faster than they usually last, and he spills his semen on the sheets under him without a touch on his cock. He clenches around the intruding member in his backside, as he can't bear this intensity for long without himself being aroused, and Jojo is coming and well, hissing and actually grumbling something that sounds like a curse world, then collapsing on top of him.

Dio laughs. His lover, his archenemy, his other part, this spoiled kid of a nobleman, this bold fighter, this stupid oaf just huffs with irritation he probably doesn't really mean, then lifts him up, to lie properly on the bed, and cuddles to him from behind.

Dio's laughter subsides into quiet chuckles, then into a content smile. When the feeling of stickiness is gone thanks to the magic of the room, that doesn't allow pain, injuries, blood and other kind of dirt to linger for long, he sighs contently.

"This is not a bad place to spend some time at, before moving on, after all."

Maybe he's asleep, maybe he just pretends to be, but there's no answer coming from Jonathan.

 ***/*/***

Time passes by, untraceable, immense, elusive time. Dio learns not to be concerned about it. A ghost and a creature of eternity. They have no need for hurry. He long ago stopped being concerned about whether his old room with Jonathan in it are real or just the product of his mind. If he feels and sees it real, than for all intents and purposes it _is_ real.

He forces himself to stay awake in the crate, at least occasionally, to remain aware of reality, even if it seems vaguer than the bright, otherworld room. He doesn't make another futile attempt to open the coffin. He will break out, when the time will be right, he's sure of it.

 ***/*/***

Sometimes he indulges Jojo's wishes for gentle caresses, caring hugs and chaste kisses. It's mostly just to humour the other, and because variety is great to keep boredom away, but he also finds these moments surprisingly pleasant.

Jonathan likes to lie with his head in Dio's lap, sideways on the bed, with his feet dangling down to the floor, while the blond sits with his back against the headboard, his fingers raking through dark locks.

When he feels especially charitable, he even reads out loud to him. Jojo enjoys simple books the most, the ones Dio dismisses as tales for children, full of adventure, a conquering hero, the victory of the so-called truth, or the tragic death of the protagonist, who did everything in his power to turn the world a better place. He also likes to listen to him read about all-consuming love and silly deaths of brainless lovers.

" _The tin soldier stood there dressed in flames. He felt a terrible heat, but whether it came from the flames or from his love he didn't know. He'd lost his splendid colours, maybe from his hard journey, maybe from grief, nobody can say._

 _He looked at the little lady, and she looked at him, and he felt himself melting. But still he stood steadfast, with his musket held trim on his shoulder."_

The room only summons books Dio has read before, which makes sense - if this place is somehow conceived from his mind, it can only show him what he has some recollection of, even if they got tucked away on the cobwebbed shelves of things almost forgotten.

This tale he remembers very vaguely. In the darkest, most faraway parts of his mind, he keeps his childhood memories of his mother, locked away safely. She had few books, three maybe, all of them battered, but handled with so much care if they were the finest treasures. By the time Dio was seven, the man who fathered him sold all for a few shillings, to buy the vile, cheap wine he poured in himself till his dying breath, the slop that was worth his wife's death and his son's vengeance.

Andersen's gloomy fairy tale collection was one of those books. Dio can no longer recall what he liked about it as a brat, as by now he only finds it inane. Maybe it was the gentle, monotone voice of his mother as she read it to him, again and again, until he learned the words by heart, the way he could forget about his father, their misery, or the rapid decline of his mother's health and concentrate on the repeatedly tragic fates of the heroes instead while the tail telling lasted.

" _Then the door blew open. A puff of wind struck the dancer. She flew like a sylph, straight into the fire with the soldier, blazed up in a flash, and was gone. The tin soldier melted, all in a lump. The next day, when a servant took up the ashes she found him in the shape of a little tin heart. But of the pretty dancer nothing was left except her spangle, and it was burned as black as a coal."_

He sighs with irritation, snapping the book closed. He looks down at Jonathan and sees him biting his lips, tears running down his cheeks in fat drops.

"Why are you crying?!"

"It's just… it was so beautiful and sad. 'I've never heard this story before."

"You haven't?" he can't comprehend why is Jojo so touched by this tale of two helpless creatures and the senseless way they perished.

"No… and the way you read is so nice. Your voice is beautiful."

Pleased by the praise, Dio fishes out his handkerchief from his pocket and handles it to him. Although he knows it will be empty and clean soon enough, he still winces as Jojo blows his nose into it loudly.

"If you are quite finished… shall I continue?"

"Hmm, yes, thanks."

Dio leans down for a quick, light kiss before starting on _The Wild Swans._

 ***/*/***

Staring up at the dark wood top of his prison, Dio contemplates how difficult it will be to leave Jonathan.

The thing is, he's gotten very used to his presence. Both the room and the crate are worlds where a second stretches infinitely long, where there's nothing to measure time against and everything stands still, yet he has the feeling they are together for quite a while now. When it will end, he might miss Jojo a bit.

He wonders if there is a way to take him with himself. To somehow close off that spirit, that essence of Jojo, and bring him back to the real world.

He thinks of the severed head lying against his leg, he extends his hand to touch it - but as always, at the very last moment he changes his mind. He just can't bear to touch a naked skull, to sink his fingers into empty eye sockets and then look into the bright, blue gaze of the man in the room.

The rest of the body he has come to think as his own. It would be too confusing otherwise, wearing it here, while in the other world, reserved only for the two of them, he embraces it, caresses it, feels it moving against and inside him in the heat of sex.

But he also needs to remember that it once belonged to Jojo. The heart beating so lazily inside his chest was once pumping blood through the Joestar's veins, taking Dio so many attempts to finally stop it.

These hands were Jojo's hands, the very same ones he extended to him on the first day they met, the ones he curled into fists when fighting him. It used to be Jojo's legs, Jojo's lungs, Jojo's back, his prick, his stomach, his muscles, sinews, bones, nails.

When he claimed this as his own eternal body, he embraced this eternal connection to Jojo too. Sometimes he thinks they will never part, not really.

He used to find that a frightening thought, but now he smiles, suddenly finding the idea doesn't bother him at all. If anything, it is reassuring.

 ***/*/***

"Checkmate," Jojo says casually, as if it's no big deal. Dio stares at the board, unbelieving.

"You were cheating!"

"Can you even cheat in chess?"

"You… you diverted my attention on purpose!"

"With what?"

"With...with…"

"It's just a game, Dio. You've beaten me like … a hundred times? I was really trying my best this time, that's all."

"You…"

"Do you want to play a rematch?"

"No! You'd just go and try to cheat again."

"Dio…"

He sighs, leaning back in his chair. He can't believe he _let_ Jojo win. It probably happened only as he indeed won against him at least a hundred times, and he wasn't really thinking him a threat any more. _He should have known better._ If anyone, he, Dio, knew that Jonathan never gave up.

"You made me very, very upset Jojo. I hope you are thinking about a way to placate me."

"With what?" Jojo, who is putting away the pieces, looks up at him. Dio spreads his legs wide and places a hand on his crotch.

"But I won, Dio. Every time you won before, you were asking for your prize, so I think now I should…"

"Well, you think wrong. Come on Jojo, get on your knees and try to propitiate me for what you've done."

"You are a sore loser," Jonathan tells him matter of factly. He is still on his knees, even though Dio has finished in his mouth already and not feeling so put out by this lost match anymore. "But don't think I'll _let you_ win just because of that."

"No, you were never smart enough to know when _not to_ put up a fight," Dio replies lazily. He wipes a dribble of semen from Jojo's chin, and licks it up. It's more satisfying that watch the room simply making it disappear.

"Do you remember how you promised to give me honest answers if I win a match against you?"

"This one doesn't count, as you were cheating."

"If I win again, will you accept it, and give me proper replies?"

"Only you are _not_ going to win again."

 ***/*/***

As it turns out, Dio is right. Jojo never wins against him again. In fact, this ends up being their last chess match.

They are talking casually - about the treasures of ancient Egypt of all things , and what could have the archaeologist of the current time – whatever that time may be – already discovered, when the room jerks around them. The surprise in Jojo's eyes tells Dio he wasn't imagining things. Then it happens again, as if someone is shaking the world around them, not too violently, but persistently.

That's when it dawns on Dio, how it's not the room, but the coffin. Someone has found his crate and now trying to move it, wherever it got stuck at the bottom of the ocean under long, long decades.

He stands up, hardly able to believe it. Jonathan is next to him, grabbing his arms, turning him towards himself with an air of urgency.

"Dio! Dio, it's…"

"It's time, Jojo."

"Dio… it's still not late. You can choose _not to go."_

"What are you talking about?"

Blue eyes look at him with sadness, already knowing his answer, yet he tries.

"You can come with me. We can move on together. We can be together forever."

"No, we can't, Jojo. My new life is waiting. I am not dead. I'll never be dead, while for you… I'm sure your friends and wife are waiting."

Jonathan looks back over his shoulder, at a place Dio can't see, than shakes his head.

"They have a different Jojo, I think. The one who they parted from, the one who they remember. I'm…"

Dio reaches inside his pocket and takes out the watch. A single tear rolls down on Jojo's cheek as he puts it in his palm and closes his fingers over it.

"Here, I'm ready to give it back now. Ready to set you free."

Jojo kisses him, with passion bordering on desperation. Allowing this one last act of weakness for himself, Dio kisses back. When he steps back, Jojo is already becoming transparent. The room is also fading out around them, the books, the bed, the window, the board of chess, and everything else, getting ready to turn into thin air.

"I'd tell you to take care of yourself and don't do others harm, but… it would be in vain, wouldn't it?"

"Goodbye, Jojo."

"I think we will meet again soon. I'll be waiting for you on the otherside."

 ***/*/***

"No, we won't! What is this nonsense, Jojo?! Jojo, do you hear me? Jojo? Jojo!"

There is no answer, no lingering presence of Jonathan, as if he, along with the room and long-long years of companionship never existed at all.

Dio doesn't have the time to panic about Jonathan's disappearance or wonder about how real he was. He is getting out. The crate is shaking, jerking as it is lifted through and out of water. He needs to make sure it's night-time when it opens. The coffin protects him from the sun, just as it protected him from the flames of the explosion and the salty water of the ocean, so he just have to keep it closed until he can make sure it is dark outside.

He was in the bright room with Jojo for long enough. He will now rule the night once again.

He has Jojo's body, he will finally examine his head as well. He will get new clothes, he will learn the world that has surely changed in his absence. But first of all he will drink blood and regain his full powers.

There are so many things he will be able to do. No, he will be able to do _anything he wants._

He won't have time to miss Jojo at all.

*/*/*

 **FIN**

*/*/*

 **Books, in order of appearance:**

Robert Louis Stevenson - Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde

Charles Dickens - Oliver Twist; or, The Parish Boy's Progress

Mary Shelley - Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus

Lewis Carroll - Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

William Shakespeare - A Midsummer Night's Dream

Alexandre Dumas - The Count of Monte Cristo

Mark Twain - The Prince and the Pauper

Leo Tolstoy - War and Peace

William Blake - Marriage of Heaven and Hell

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe - The Sorrows of Young Werther

Emily Brontë - Wuthering Heights

Niccolò Machiavelli - The Prince

Hans Christian Andersen - The Steadfast Tin Soldier and The Wild Swans from Fairy Tales Told for Children


End file.
